Twenty Minutes
by bowlerhatfringe
Summary: To the rest of the world, they're just American and Canada. To each other, they're Alfred and Matthew. USCAN


**Title: **Twenty Minutes  
><strong>Fandom: <strong>Hetalia  
><strong>Pairing: <strong>USCAN  
><strong>Summary: <strong>To the rest of the world, they're just American and Canada. To each other, they're Alfred and Matthew.  
><strong>Rating: <strong>K+  
><strong>Warning: <strong>Slash, fluff, poorly cooked clams, incest/brocest, OOC-ness, innuendo, and canoodling.  
><strong>Word count: <strong>1,751**  
><strong>**Song: **Human- Darren Criss

_a/n:_ Just a drabble for my best friend, _**demone bianco**_. Go check out her stories, yush! (She has a new Hetalia story, based on the tv series _Big Brother_!) :D  
><em>an2:_ Alfred and Matthew are like, the epitome of bromance. I'm about to rip their platonic bromance apart with terrible fanfiction. GET READY FOR SOME BROCEST.  
><em>an3:_ While these guys aren't my OTP (**Spamano FTWWW!**), it's a cute couple. This totally does them no justice, so I'm _so_ sorry. ;A;  
>an4: how is it that everything I write ends in making out? OTL

**Disclaimer: **Don't own Hetalia. Or _Pepto Bismol_.

* * *

><p>"—you simply cannot send a robot into the atmosphere without doing the proper mathematics and engineering. Furthermore, you have no statistics to back up your proposition." Germany says sternly, eyes narrowed at America.<p>

America pouts miserably, but puts away his PowerPoint presentation. He's taking his seat as Germany rambles on about how improving international relations can benefit the current state of their economy, ready to zone out. He's already started thinking about eating burgers (because those clams at lunch looked _gross_) when a timid tap on his shoulder makes Alfred squirm in surprise. He casts his gaze to his left, instantly beaming.

Matthew!

He grins widely, never breaking their established eye contact. Alfred likes the pretty violet hue his brother's eyes are; he likes how they flicker with different shades of violet according to his emotions. Anger, sadness, love, kindness, _arousal—_

Alfred doesn't really realize he's rambling about Matthew's eyes out loud. Not loud enough to be registered by other nations ears, but loud enough that Matthew is attempting a glare and is blushing profusely.

A hand claps over his mouth. But Alfred doesn't stop.

"Shh," the little blonde beside him tries to sound annoyed, but Alfred can hear the fondness in his quiet words. "I just wanted to show you something, Al."

Alfred reluctantly slows the motor in his mouth, peering curiously at where his brother is pointing.

England is looking rather ruffled, face positively glowing and caterpillar eyebrows furrowed together. He's swatting at something with his left hand, and Alfred can't contain the grin.

France is totally molesting Iggy, and it's hilarious because England is slowly stopping his whole 'I'm-hitting-you-because-you're-molesting-me-you-git-' procedure. Just as France manages to peck England's cheek, England finally shoots up from his chair, whacking France in the head with his notebook. France pouts and Germany scowls deeply. He's not too impressed by the maturity of his fellow nations. Alfred shares a 'oh _crap_' look with Matthew as Germany prepares to give a speech about mannerisms when North Italy, sitting in between Japan and South Italy, gives a loud whine, tears dotting his eyes.

"Ve~ my stomach hurts!"

Another nation pipes up—South Korea.

"Aiyah~! Mine is hurting too!" South Korea is kicking his feet and lets his head fall on China's shoulder, who is attempting to push him off.

Alfred stands up. He's just had the most amazing idea that benefits him and the other nations from stomach pain relief and Germany-speech relief. "Just take _some Pepto Bismol_!" ("_Pepto Bismol_ was invented in Korea, daze~!") "We'll take a twenty minute break until you two are feelin' better!" Matthew is looking curiously at him, but doesn't say anything.

South Korea takes that moment to whine almost as loudly as North Italy is—who currently has Germany going to him in concern and a bit of annoyance. China is frowning, but he nods at Taiwan and Hong Kong who help South Korea stand up.

"Oh," Austria frowns. His hands go to his stomach and Elizabeta stares at him with concern, speaking to him quietly in Hungarian.

Other nations are beginning to look sick and green, including Lithuania, Sweden, Switzerland, and Belgium. There's a chorus of groans, and Alfred tries to contain a smile of satisfaction. It's just like a perfectly plotted movie—except, Alfred didn't do anything to the clams they served earlier at lunch because he's way too heroic to do something like that. Now he'll have some alone time with Matthew. As if his brother can hear his thoughts, the Canadian blushes, clutching at his polar bear (woah, when did Kumajirou get there?).

There's more groaning and Alfred watches in amusement as Russia goes pale, and not from Belarus reaching to grab him. He's also watching when South Italy—Romano—frowns. "It was probably those damn clams! They smelled funny and tasted like crap!" South Italy is standing up; about to bitch out whomever made lunch when he turns _positively green_, hands rapidly clutching his stomach.

Spain, sitting beside the southern Italy, loses his cheery disposition and instantly frowns. "Lovi, you ate the clams?" Spain quickly stands up, pulling South Italy into his arms. "I'll take you back to the hotel room! Oh, _mi poco tomate! _I'll take care of you!" Spain says with worry, dragging a protesting and kicking Romano.

Soon sick nations and their respective nation companions are leaving, and Alfred waits leisurely in his chair as England and finally, France leaves the room. Matthew is petting Kumajirou, purposely looking anywhere _but_ at Alfred.

"So~" drawls the American, standing up and twisting Matthew's chair so it is situated in front of him. "I'm definitely lookin' forward for these twenty minutes." Matthew huffs, red sweater clad arms reaching up to grab Alfred's shoulders.

"Did you give everyone food poisoning just to canoodle with me in the meeting room?"

Alfred shakes his head. "Nope. But whoever did, I totally owe them! Like, maybe a McDonalds giftcard or somethin'!"

Matthew tugs on the fur trim lining of Alfred's bomber jacket, tugging his brother down closer. "McDonalds? Really?"

"Burgers equal happiness." Alfred chimes merrily, leaning in completely until their noses touch. Matthew rubs his against Alfred's, engaging a sweet and short Eskimo kiss. Alfred cheeks are a bit pink, but he grins nonetheless as he leans away, hands resting on the table. "So did you like my speech, Mattie?"

Matthew rolls his eyes. "A superhuman, a _gundam_, and a genetically mutated kangaroo from Australia isn't going to help reduce and control the amount of Green House emissions." Alfred pouts, expecting more support from his brother and lover.

Matthew's hand reaches up and moves some hair away from Alfred's face. Alfred's heart jumps up to his throat, he _swears_, as his brother shrugs a bit nervously. "I can't support all your decisions."

And Alfred knows that. When it comes to Canada and America, Canada is shy, reasonable, and quietly powerful. He doesn't agree with America's crazy schemes, but sometimes, when America proposes a logical idea, Canada is there to back him up 100%. Amercia—_no_, Alfred—is always in awe of how in control Canada is. Even when the other nations don't hear him, Canada proposes balanced ideas with pros and cons. America wishes people wouldn't forget him; they shouldn't! He's too amazing for all the forgetfulness. And yes, he's not one to be talking because America has forgotten about him many times in the past; but with the recent Alfred-Matthew relationship upgrade, Canada disappears less. Canada's still touchy about it though and when they're the personifications of their countries, there's always some hurt in Canada's eyes as he recalls previous American-Canada relations. The not so good ones. Like when Alfred was ordering Matthew to become one with him. Or when America followed the ideas of isolationism, ignoring Canada for so long_…_

But then there's Alfred and Matthew. A more innocent (er, sometimes) and light hearted relationship. Not when they're nations. Not when anyone expects something from them. When they're, well, _human_. Alfred means that figuratively, of course. There is love, hurt, passion and every other emotion in between. Matthew gets angry at Alfred, Alfred gets frustrated with Matthew, Matthew kisses Alfred desperately, and Alfred kisses back just as much. There's a balance of brotherly and romantic actions between them.

When they're America and Canada, they're nations and allies.

When they're Alfred and Matthew, they're lovers and brothers.

Back to the present, Matthew is opening his mouth to say something but a voice pipes up from his lap. "Who?"

Laughing, Alfred is glad for the tiny polar bear—he's kept Matthew company for so long.

"Looks like you woke up." Matthew smiles fondly, stroking the white fury creature.

"Who?" Black beady eyes stare at Matthew, confusedly.

"Kumakichi, it's me! Canada!"

"Oh."

Alfred laughs even harder. "You can't even remember his name, _still_!"

"I do too!" Matthew insists. "It's Kumajiji!"

"Jirou."

"Jijirou."

"Close, Mattie." Alfred chuckles, giving up trying to keep his hands off Matthew as he wraps his arms around him tightly, giving the boy beneath him a squeeze.

"Ugh, can't breath!" Matthew wheezes, hands trying to escape. Kumajirou hops off Matthew's lap, trying to find a new place to sleep. Alfred kisses Matthew's forehead and loosens his grip, but refuses to let go.

"You're so huggable!" he exclaims. Matthew sighs but doesn't protest anymore, his own hands wrapping around Alfred's middle. "And…" Alfred's voice lowers. "We don't nearly get enough time to do this anymore."

Matthew frowns, pulling back to look into his brother's eyes. They're downcast and sad, and it breaks Matthew's heart. "You know why that is. We have to—"

"Take care of our country first." whispers Alfred. Yeah. He knows. But when he and Matthew are alone, he just wants to focus on _this. _Him and Matthew, not America and Canada.

The smaller blonde is frowning, because it's not too often that Alfred gets this sad. An idea forms and Matthew kisses hi cheek. "Then…let's make the most of this time, eh?"

Alfred feels his jaw drop as he gapes at Matthew. He's smiling a bit cheekily, violet eyes glinting. Oh…_oh_. Alfred's face flushes a bit pink and he nods his head. He and Matthew might not see each other later, but they have twenty minutes…

He's leaning down and kissing Matthew deeply in less than five seconds, the boy responding with just as much enthusiasm. This is perfect, _this is right_. Alfred loves this and he knows Matthew does, too. He knows how easily relationships between nations fall apart and switch, but there's this seed of hope: he wants to be with Matthew forever.

Right now they only have twenty minutes.

Alfred lifts Matthew out of his chair and lays him on the table, moving away from his lips to smile happily at him. "Hello." he says, quietly and out of breath.

Matthew chuckles. "Hello to you, too." The Canadian's hands reach for Alfred's biceps. "Still super crazy strong, I see."

"No, you're just light." Alfred says.

"Am not." The boy protests.

Alfred ignores that kissing his cheek. "I wonder what we can do in twenty minutes…"

"Something productive? Like reading through your notes?"

"No. I didn't write any notes. I drew Godzilla fighting off GHG's."

"…Alfred, _really_?"

The American silences him with another kiss. "Shut it. Let's make out, 'kay?"

"Oh, you're so romantic." Matthew says dryly. But it doesn't stop him from twisting his fingers in Alfred's hair and pulling him down to lock lips.

Alfred decides, yup, this is perfect.


End file.
